Time of Remembrance
by White Rose Withering
Summary: Those who are no longer with us are never forgotten. Post 5:05.


Disclaimer: Spooks and all it's characters belong to Kudos and the BBC. If I owned anything, Harry and Ruth would have had their happy ending. Nor do I own the below song lyrics, those belong to Epica.

Author's Note: Post 5:05 Fic. This was written in honor of Remembrance Day. Those who are no longer with us are never forgotten. Please don't forget to leave a review.

**Time of Remembrance**

_"The very brightest candle of all has been extinguished"_

The grid had been in darkness for hours. The chaotic chatter of intelligence officers and admin staff had long since departed for the more favourable surroundings of the George. The constant mechanical groan of the computer systems and air conditioning held its breath and Thames House and never seemed so silent.

Moments like this were few and far between, that's what made them so precious and sought after.

With the blinds drawn and the doors locked, Harry had never felt so safe. In their line of work it was hardly a feeling he was used to. Stress, terror and paranoia on the other hand were as familiar as the chill along his spine. The four blank walls of his office gave him a level of privacy that he couldn't find at home. There were far too many reminders there; too many unsaid _what ifs_. Without Scarlet's constant barking and Fidget's habit of clawing the furniture, Harry found it somewhat easier to concentrate.

This was the part he hated.

In time the initial pain of loss would fade. They would grieve, they would carry on doing their job and the world continued to turn. No matter how painful, life went on. But each time they lost someone, closing their file was a perk that unfortunately fell on Harry to do. Removing their possessions from their station and destroying any trace of them from MI5's registers hurt worse than any wound he'd ever known. For one person that they'd worked with for years to be reduced to a few cardboard boxes and a paper file soon to be shredded was almost more than he could take. Lying to a former colleague's family about their death or disappearance was one thing, but pretending that they'd never existed was more than he was prepared to do in this case, in _her_ case.

The past week had been hell. Due to the circumstances of "_her_ _death"_, the JIC had thought it best to launch a full investigation. The whole of Section D had been pulled into interrogation rooms and safe houses, made to sit through hours of questioning that ended up more like torture sessions. The more seniors officers, Harry included, had taken great pleasure in infuriating the examiners. Answering questions with questions and reciting full speeches from Shakespeare had got a rise out of them. Adam had made a game of trying to see how many film references he could fit into a single answer. It had gone as well as could have expected, until Jo opened her mouth just as they were about to let her go.

Harry still remembered the phone call that had woke him at 2am, as though he were listening to a recording. Somehow he knew, as he walked into the interrogating room, that a little bird had decided to sing. His original statement had been ripped to shreds as he was presented with CCTV footage from _their_ date. _Their first and last_. As he was made to watch it with a heavy heart, he knew there was no use trying to lie his way through it. What would have been the point? Everyone on the grid knew about it, why not tell the nice people from the JIC?

At least Jo avoided him now, which was a plus side. He dread to think what he would say to her if they were locked in a room for longer than was necessary.

After the creepy crawlies from the JIC had retreated to their dank corner clubs, another phase of closing _her_ file had to be done. Telling _her_ family.

_She_ had once described _her_ mother as a shorter version of Hitler, and as usual _she_ had been right. What was an already difficult conversation had been made worse by the hundreds of questions fired at him by _her_ mother. Her constant hows and when's were not that of a grieving mother, but that of someone who had been expecting that very phone call for a long time.

_Her_ things had been boxed up and put into storage. Apart from a few choice items that had found their way into the backseat of Harry's car along with Fidget. The house had been given over to _her_ family to do with whatever they saw fit. It had pained him more than he'd ever let on to see a for sale sign in the garden. He'd toyed with the idea of buying it himself, but then what would he do? He wouldn't live in it, couldn't in fact, there were far too many _what ifs _in that house. He wanted to see a new family move in there, let them make some happy memories rather than dwell on miserable ones.

Harry rubbed his eyes, momentarily taking his gaze away from the cold cup of coffee on his desk. He refused to drown his sorrows with alcohol; it wouldn't have been what _she_ would have wanted anyway. His pen tapped the same spot on the paper before him as it had a hundred times or more. The dent was becoming more and more noticeable. Without even looking at it he could recite the whole thing to the very letter._ Her_ life had become a familiar song. Funny really, but everything that had happened since _she_ left had been a walk through Hyde Park compared to this.

It was always the same. Every time they lost someone he put off taking that once last look at their files before sending it off for shredding. It always seemed so final. He had prayed that he would never have to do that with _hers_. Fate had decided otherwise.

Now someone else sat at _her_ station. Someone else used_ her_ coffee mug. Someone else _sat_ in her chair in the meeting room. The grid had seen far too many people replaced. New memories forged as old faces faded.

As he signed the final form, giving permission for _her_ file to be destroyed, he couldn't help but wonder where _she_ was? Paris? Rome? Somewhere more exotic maybe? He always pictured _her_ in the corner of a little French café, reading one of the classics that_ she_ was so fond of. It made it a little easier knowing that _she_ was out there somewhere, _alive_.

He closed _her_ file, and gently picked up _her_ photo. It didn't do _her_ justice. It didn't capture the magnificent blue of _her_ eyes, or the brilliance of _her _smile. He wondered what _her_ name was now? Something beautiful, no doubt. Not that _she_ would be anything but _Ruth_ to him.

He let his finger trace the gently sweep of _her_ hair before returning it to its rightful place. A selfish though perhaps, but he wondered if _she_ still thought of him?

Harry sealed the file inside a brown paper envelope, all ready to be taken to personnel. All ready for shredding. He let out a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. This was always the hardest part. From now on they would have to refer to _her_ in the past tense. Even though he made himself promise that _she_ would be different, he knew deep down _she_ would be treated like the rest. Unmentioned, but not forgotten. _She_ had taken up permanent residence in his thought while _she_ had been _"alive", _that wasn't going to stop now that _she_ was _"dead"_.


End file.
